


"take me instead"

by escapismandsharpobjects



Category: Young Wallander (TV)
Genre: FebuWhump2021, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Whump, i never know lol, there is violence in here. we know that. idk if it was graphic tho.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-06
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-17 22:07:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29232777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/escapismandsharpobjects/pseuds/escapismandsharpobjects
Summary: febuwhump day 5: "take me instead."“You want to kill someone?” he asked, at last, watching Reza’s blood slowly trickle down the handle of the knife, onto the man’s hand.“Very much.”“Then take me instead.”
Relationships: Kurt Wallander & Reza Al-Rahman
Comments: 6
Kudos: 9





	"take me instead"

**Author's Note:**

> hi!!! welcome to my second young wallander fic this month! i hope that you like it :)

“Are you sure about this, man? It’s creepy in here.”

“I just have a feeling, Rez.”

“I have a feeling too. A creepy feeling.”

Kurt sighed. “We can leave. I just...I feel like there’s something here.”

It was Reza’s turn to sigh. “No, we’ll have a look around. Might as well do  _ something  _ while we’re here.”

The  _ here _ in question was the basement of the apartment building that their suspect lived in. It was clearly unused by the building’s owner, being covered in trash and scraps. It smelled distinctly unpleasant and looked generally, to use Reza’s description, creepy. Naturally, Kurt was sure there was something there. 

He wasn’t wrong.

He was walking a bit ahead of Reza, looking from side to side, when there was a clatter from behind him, and then a sharp intake of breath. He turned around. “Rez? You alright?”

“...No.”

There was a man holding onto Reza, an arm wrapped around his torso and the other holding a knife up against his neck. His eyes were wide and clearly not all there. 

“Drop your gun,” he said, nodding his head at Kurt, who complied, slowly drawing his gun and setting it on the floor.

“Kick it over.”

He did. 

“Now come get his. Easy.”

Kurt approached slowly, trying to think of the best way out of this. He figured it probably involved Reza’s gun. He wrapped his hand around it, then slowly pulled it away from Reza, keeping it in his hands. 

“Put it down.”

Kurt didn’t do anything.

“I said,” the man said, pressing the knife further into Reza’s throat. Blood pooled onto the metal. “Put it down.”

Kurt set it down. “What do you want?” 

The man grinned in a way that told him he wasn’t going to like it.

“I want blood.”

“How much?” Reza asked, voice strained but somehow still sounding sarcastic. “I got plenty.”

“All of it,” said the man, and he turned his gaze to Kurt, a dangerous look in his eyes. “I always wanted to kill someone, and look! Someone to kill,” he said, evidently delighted. 

Kurt was starting to panic. This was looking incredibly bad. There had to be something he could do…

“You want to kill someone?” he asked, at last, watching Reza’s blood slowly trickle down the handle of the knife, onto the man’s hand. 

“Very much.”

“Then take me instead.”

_ “Kurt-” _

The man interrupted. “Why should I take you?  _ He’s  _ perfectly good.”

Kurt thought a second, his heart racing. What would sound logical?

“I’m younger,” he settled on saying. “My blood will be better.”

The man seemed to consider this. “All right,” he said, finally, “but no funny business.”

_ Thank fuck, _ Kurt thought. He wouldn’t dream of doing anything other than obeying at this juncture. He did as the man said. 

“Come here.” 

He came, trying not to wince when the arm that had been wrapped around Reza’s torso grabbed onto him. He felt Reza try to wriggle away, but the attempt was proved useless when suddenly, he was shoved a good several feet away, falling to the ground, thankfully mostly unharmed. 

At the same time that he threw Reza away from him, the man grabbed ahold of Kurt much more firmly, and suddenly the knife was against  _ his  _ throat. He didn’t dare breathe. There wouldn’t have been much point in it, anyway. Soon he wouldn’t be breathing at all.

_ This is the end, _ he thought.  _ At least Reza’s not going with me. _

“Listen,” he heard Reza say, and he closed his eyes.  _ I don’t want to see him see me die. _

Whatever Reza might have said after that was interrupted by the man punching Kurt in the stomach. He looked down, and realized with alarm that he had not been punched, but rather stabbed. Again. Rather absurdly, he found himself thinking,  _ lucky it’s on the other side this time.  _

Kurt crumpled to the ground as the man, evidently not willing to finish what he’d started, pulled his knife out of Kurt’s stomach (with an awful squelching sound that made him feel faintly sick), and ran away. 

It hurt just as much the second time. Maybe more. It was a hot, throbbing pain that took over his entire torso, and for a second he thought that he couldn’t breathe. 

“Kurt!” Reza’s voice came from above him. “Kurt, look at me.”

Kurt sucked in a breath and forced his eyes to open, blinking up at Reza. “What’re you doing?” he asked, feeling that there was something more important that Reza was supposed to do.

“Trying to stop you from dying.” He watched Reza take off his jacket and ball it up, and then lost track of everything for several seconds when the jacket was pressed into his stomach. He cried out, curling his hands into fists until his nails dug into his palms. Hot tears slid down his face, a feeling similar to the hot blood dripping down his torso. 

A hand grabbed one of his fists and uncurled it, grabbing onto it tightly. “I’ve got you. You’re gonna be okay, you hear me?” Reza said, deadly serious. “Don’t you fucking die.”

“‘Kay,” Kurt said, and then he recalled what it was that Reza should have been doing. “You...you should chase him.”

Reza looked at him like he’d just said the stupidest thing in the world. “He can wait.” He reached for his phone, letting go of Kurt’s hand and pressing down still harder on the jacket. Kurt stopped himself from screaming with the thought that whoever was on the other end of the line probably wouldn’t want to hear him. 

Reza spoke to someone, very quickly and very professionally. Kurt tried his best to listen, but none of the conversation was directed at him, and he found it very difficult to concentrate. His thoughts wandered. His entire torso burned with pain. He wondered whether he was dying. He wished he were, if only for the simple fact that then the pain would stop.

Eventually, Reza hung up the phone, and his hand returned to its former position, jolting Kurt out of his thoughts. 

“Why the hell did you do that?” Reza asked, sounding pissed.

“What?” he asked, though he knew perfectly well what Reza was referring to.

“Get yourself stabbed. What the _ fuck, _ man? The fuck is “take me instead”?” 

“What do you mean?...didn’t want you to die.”

“So your solution was to die instead?”

Kurt would’ve shrugged, had he been physically capable. “Better me than you.”

Reza looked like he wanted to say something, but Kurt shut him up with a sharp squeeze of his hand. “‘S true. You have a family.” He coughed, tasting the metallic tang of blood on his tongue. “Nobody would miss me.”

Reza had sounded worried. And now he was coughing blood. “I’m dying,” he said, feeling certain of that fact. He  _ had  _ to be. 

“The fuck you are. I won’t let you.”

“Hm,” Kurt said, wishing that it was as easy as that. He was starting to feel dizzy, almost like he was floating. That was not good, he knew, but it felt a good deal nicer than intense pain, so he didn’t mind it too much. He closed his eyes.

And then Reza was somehow pushing the jacket even harder into his stomach, and the pain came roaring back. He opened his eyes and groaned. “Hurts…”

“Good. I saw you trying to pass out. Don’t do that again.”

He decided it was probably a good idea to listen. He willed his eyes to stay open, trying desperately to focus on anything else besides the way that his wound throbbed in time with his heartbeat. He could almost feel the blood forced out of it with each beat. It was an extremely unpleasant sensation. 

“Talk to me,” he said, his voice barely more than a whisper. “Please.” 

“Only if you promise not to die on me.”

“I promise.”

Reza talked to him until an ambulance arrived, and continued talking as the paramedics worked on him, until at last one of them stuck something into his arm, and he felt everything start to melt away. 

Just before he fell asleep, he looked intently up at the person above him. “‘M I dying?”

The person shook their head. “Thanks to your friend here, I doubt it. You should be just fine.”

Kurt gave Reza a small smile across the ambulance, where another paramedic was bandaging his throat. “See?” he asked, voice slurring. “Not dying. Y’r okay...I’m okay.” 

Reza reached out and patted his shoulder reassuringly. “I’m okay,” he agreed. “You’re gonna be okay.”

**Author's Note:**

> thanks so much for reading this!!! the ending was like. really bad but we Know i can't do endings. anyhow if you liked this please comment!!! you will make me so so happy :)


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